Blessed and Despised
by Nsu-Yeul
Summary: Healing, Priesthood, Athletics. Summoning. Dark Arts. These are but a few of the subjects that students at the Lucan Academy commit their lives to mastering. After taking an exam that determines their life path, Enza and Ardele are trapped in studies that may force them into a life-threatening pilgrimage against Sin. But while one is blessed by Yevon, the other is despised. AU.
1. Enza - Rights

_Blessed and Despised_ by Nsu-Yeul

_Part One: Studies_

Chapter One: Enza – Rights

"Did your parents sign the form?"

"Yeah, they didn't even hesitate." Stopping my walk to withdraw the homework folder from my messenger bag, I delicately revealed the pale green permission slip. Before I could even catch up to Ardele, he snatched the paper from me, nearly crinkling its edge. Before I could complain, he straightened it out, and we continued on our way to school.

"They signed the gil note on the spot, too," I added, flashing the thousand-gil note in front of his giddy eyes.

"Thank Yevon," he said while returning my slip and showing off his own. "Mine too, but I heard from my mom that Goran is withdrawing. His father changed his mind at the last minute and wouldn't give permission."

"Him too? Penna came to see me last night. Same thing happened to her, but it was because of the gil. I'd never seen her crying before."

"Two friends gone already, and the slip just went out yesterday. There's still a one more days before it's due. " Despite the warm breeze from the ocean just blocks away, he rubbed the sleeves of his uniform jacket. "This is making me nervous—all these people dropping out of Lucan. The Mastery Exam can't be that rigorous, right?"

A small palm frond had fallen onto our path. Carefully picking it up, I lightly pressed my fingers into its teeth. "It's less about the exam and more about the results. We can't predict what our results will be. It could be anything!"

"Or we might not pass."

I playfully tossed the palm frond at him. He narrowly dodged it, but looked more than a little affronted. His offended expression seemed comical in contrast to the curly ponytail sticking out from the side of his head.

"That could have cut me!" he shouted, barely keeping the quirks of a smile at bay.

"Well then, don't say things like that. My parents would be so disappointed if I didn't pass. I doubt they'd let me back in their house if I failed! Especially after they paid so much gil for it."

"It could be worse. What if you passed but got put in Dark Arts."

"That's just about as rare as getting placed in Summoning. Knowing me, I'll get Healing."

"Or Priesthood."

With no palm fronds left to throw, I crossed my arms testily. "Not funny. You should take your prayers to Yevon more seriously. Sin will always come back if we don't atone for our past mistakes."

"You don't say? And, I do pray, just not as much as you. I'll probably get Blitzball."

I laughed. "I'm sure, what with your girls' clothes and jewelry. The Lucan Liners—no, the Luca Goers really need a new player that specializes in hair and makeup."

"Shut up already! I was just kidding." He flared the red and white coattails of his girls' uniform jacket like an angry crane stretching its wings.

"Hey, I was, too." Still, I should have thought twice before teasing Ardele about his fashion choices. Always focusing on the strengths and interests of its students, Lucan Academy's school code permitted cross-dressing for boys and girls. Although androgynous students dotted the classrooms and cafeteria, the world outside popularly perceived cross-dressing as nothing more than a performance art.

Ardele, while male, expressed himself femininely. Any person glancing our way would see a boy and a pretty girl walking to school. Most noticeably, Ardele wore Lucan's girl's uniform. Instead of a red necktie, he wore a bow. Where I wore black long pants, he wore shorts cut off at the thigh over black stockings. The coattails of his jacket fell to the backs of his knees, while mine cut off at the hip. Our only similarities were our black undershirts and boots. Still, we both had similarly deep voices and nonexistent chests.

At Lucan, students looked forward to futures that most of Spira thought unimaginable. As such, expression of self never caused a stir. My own eyes were lined with kohl, and I'd even let Ardele cut my hair last year, complete with bangs and short layers. I chuckled to myself, remembering Ardele's excitement as he took scissors to my hair. "You'll look more put-together," he'd said above a flurry of snips. And whenever it came to aesthetics, Ardele was right.

Still, outside the paradise of Lucan, Ardele's own parents disapproved of his preference for the feminine. This morning's sensitivity led me to believe he'd had another run-in with his father.

"Sorry," I said, extending a hand to his shoulder.

He nodded, slowly. After a second or two of walking in silence, he smiled. "I started it anyway."

We quietly continued forward. The white sun beat down on us, even though it had only broken over the horizon an hour ago. The streets were waking up as nervous men and women left their houses for the day's work. A few kids were getting an early start on their chores, washing windows or collecting palm fronds from their yards. Some were repairing hurricane reinforcements—a home's only protection against vicious storms, or worse.

The daily walk to school always reminded me of my fortune. Getting into the city's only school, Lucan Academy, required more than an entrance fee. All accepted children, age five, had passed an arbitrary test administered by in-house staff. The only question I recalled from that day included being asked to blink three times as slowly as possible. Nevertheless, the administrator discovered some kind of potential in me, ushering me away from a preordained life to one of study and unpredictability.

"What do you think I'll get?" Ardele asked, bringing life back into the dead air between us. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he had truly forgiven me.

"To be honest, I think you might end up with Clairvoyance. Your intuition is way too keen. You called both Goran and Penna getting pulled from the Academy."

"That was just a feeling, not future sight."

"Well, you've got some kind of insight into a world I can't see. What about that time you knew there was going to be a fire on the East Wing's roof? The only reason we didn't eat lunch there was one of your 'feelings.'"

"That wasn't Clairvoyance. I could feel it, that was all."

"Yeah, then, what exactly were you feeling?"

"Heat… I don't know. It's like the weather. Can't you feel things like that?"

"Nope, and that's why I'll get placed in Healing." I smiled, but Ardele only shook his head. Before I could ask why, we entered Lucan's rusting gates.

Excited classmates lounged in the palm trees' shade, their red and white uniform jackets shining brightly in the shadows. More than a few displayed signed permission slips to their friends and underclassmen. As they whiled away the remaining minutes before the first chime, the school building patiently towered over us—easily the largest structure in the district.

"Is it just me," he asked as we approached the East Lawn, "or are there less students here than yesterday?"

"Enza, Ardele, over here!" Celandine called to us from a palm tree near the East Wing's red entrance doors. Her loose boy's uniform flopped into the air as she leapt up and down with excitement. Beside her stood an inanimate Avena, whose mouse-brown hair seemed a little disheveled, as though she'd woken late from a restless night's sleep.

As we made our way over, Celandine waved her permission slip like a signpost, her bright smile disclosing her parents' approval. Her bouncy enthusiasm sent her orange braids flying about her, but Avena didn't even flinch as they lightly smacked her nose. Unlike Celandine, she seemed less than celebratory and was noticeably empty-handed.

Before I could inquire, Headmaster Byran stepped out of the Academy's doors. The headmaster's black robe cascaded down his tall frame, in much the same way as Lucan's professors, but a braided symbol of Yevon hung loosely from his neck. The charm's eye seemed to watch the student body, seeking out repentance from sins.

With a decorative walking stick, Byran strummed the wind chimes hanging from the entrance overhang. An enchanted melody reverberated throughout the air, capturing every student's attention.

Lifting his hands to the sky, he began our daily ritual: "With another day we have been blessed. Praise be to Yevon." His arms cut fluidly through the air in the shape of a circle until his hands came to rest, one above the other, at his abdomen. His fingers curved slightly toward his cupped palms, as though handling a fragile orb.

"Praise be to Yevon," we echoed as one. Our hands moved to match his. Finally, in unison, we bowed, not to the headmaster but to the god who gave us the only hope in our devastated land. Still, our prayer sounded more morose than tranquil. By Yevon's grace we breathed in the sea-salty air. Tomorrow, or even ten minutes from now, we might not be as fortunate.

Somewhere in that distant sky, loomed our Sin. _May our prayers appease you_, I said silently, eyes closed. _May our actions please you. Forgive me my missteps, which are many._

A nudge to my ribs woke me from my meditation. "C'mon," Ardele dared to whisper. With the conclusion of our morning prayer, a procession of mute students entered the school. Avena and Celandine waited by the entrance. Avena's detached gaze fell to her shoes, but Celandine appraised me with an impatient tap of her foot. Embarrassed but grateful for Ardele's wake-up call, I followed them into the building.

Seeing that the headmaster had returned to his quarters, Ardele leaned in for another whisper: "I told you that you're becoming a priest."

Without the freedom to argue, I grabbed his ponytail, tugging it hard. He barely swallowed a yelp, and I was left to bite back my laughter as we stumbled into homeroom.

The warning chimes sounded right as we found our seats. With some trepidation, I noticed Celandine patting Avena on the shoulder. Usually, it was the other way around—Celandine failing an exam and Avena comforting her friend. To see the opposite troubled me, but with the girls on the other side of the room, I couldn't whisper my concern.

One last chime signaled the beginning of class. The headmaster only rang the first chime of the day, leaving a school aide to do the job thereafter. Our homeroom curator, and teacher of Priesthood, Professor Kamaal took his place before his desk. We stood in unison, bringing our curved hands to our abdomens. In silence we bowed to Yevon's spirit. After a curt nod from Kamaal, we reseated ourselves. The mandatory silence was lifted, as class commenced.

"If your parents have signed the Retraction of Rights form, please pass it forward," he told us, "alongside your payment for the Mastery Exam."

The pale green permission slips surfaced from book bags and folders. Envelopes concealed the gil notes as they traveled from back to front. Two seats were noticeably empty: Penna and Goran had not returned today, leaving only ten students in our homeroom.

Kamaal collected the papers from each row, talking as he did so: "Come to school tomorrow prepared with your suitcases. You won't need more than your uniforms, formal attire, and basic toiletries."

Carrying the forms to the file cabinet behind his desk, Kamaal locked them away. Some sort of safety precaution, I guessed, but then again, I couldn't figure why such measures were needed in the first place.

"I've been praying for all of you. This is the product of ten years of study. Be vigilant, but I hope there is excitement as well?"

Pairs of eager eyes stared back at him, but no one was brave enough to actually respond to his question. An understanding smile broke out on Kamaal's thin lips.

"You are all strong in at least one course of study. May this Exam help you master your strengths and serve Spira for the good of the people."

I nodded my head in a silent prayer. From the corner of my eye, I caught Ardele smirking at me. While he pretended to find my piety amusing, I knew that his own faith rivaled mine. More than once, our lunch break had been spent meditating on the rooftop, often initiated by Ardele himself.

Still, his prayers always seemed rooted in a fear of Spira's sin rather than the glory of Yevon. The day the fire tore through the rooftop on the East Wing, Ardele's intuition had kept us both from eating there. The terror trembling in his brown eyes had warned of more than fleeting paranoia.

"We can't go there. Please, don't go there," he'd whispered, as though demons might overhear.

"Where should we go then?" I'd asked.

With a vehement shake of his head, he'd grasped my uniform sleeve. "Here, just stay here. Pray, Enza. I need you to pray."

So we'd sat in the empty, domed hallway, our backs against the stone wall. I mumbled prayers to the air, mostly to Yevon, even though I wasn't sure what he could do to save a rooftop at Lucan Academy. Ardele held my sleeve until the emergency chimes sounded. After that, we obediently followed the crowds to the front lawn. The fire on the roof had blazed like an angry fiend. Rumor had it that the Dark Arts Mastery professor had been sent to quench it.

Afterward, we never told the headmaster about Ardele's foresight, and no explanation ever came for the fire.

* * *

Shedding his fatherly airs, Kamaal readdressed the class: "For those of you whose families are still deciding, remind them that tomorrow morning is the deadline. Mastery Exams will begin after homeroom. I hope to see all of you then. For now, let's call roll."

Several students were missing. Ardele flashed six fingers in my direction from beneath his desk. So then, we'd both been counting. Six classmates from our homeroom alone had dropped out. Just a little under a full day remained for families to make their final decision to sign the form. I wondered how many permission slips Kamaal had received this morning and how many more were still needed.

"You may talk freely for the rest of the period," he added.

Without hesitation, I turned to Ardele. "Have you packed yet? What do you think the dorms will look like?"

He laughed. "Do you want me to answer both those questions? I haven't packed. There was a bit of a skirmish in my house as to what kind of uniforms I should be packing."

In other words, his parents wanted him to pack only boy's uniforms. "What are you going to do?"

"I didn't pack at all. I'll pack last thing tomorrow morning and head out. It's not like they can do anything to me once I'm out the door. They signed the form, after all."

The Retraction of Rights form—to most students, like myself, it was a bittersweet trade, saying goodbye to our families in order to take the Mastery Exam. For Ardele, that pale green paper represented his emancipation.

"Well, I don't have your excuse, but I haven't finished packing either. I'll get everything together to—"

The chimes rang again, initiating the Passing to the next period. Reticence befell the classroom, one that could only be broken by our next professor's prayer to Yevon. Ardele gathered his bag and waved before walking out the door. All the students in my year took the same courses, but in a different order. While Ardele headed to Chronicling, I stayed put for Priesthood with Professor Kamaal.

Avena and Celandine followed close behind Ardele. On her way out, Avena caught my stare. After flashing me an obligatory smile, she quickly shifted her eyes away. Her fingers nervously hooked and unhooked the clasps on her jacket. Forbidden to speak during Passing, I sighed as her figure disappeared through the doorframe.

After a few minutes, the class filled with students. Finally, the enchanted chimes filled the halls with their music. Kamaal took his place in front of his desk, hands resting before his abdomen. We stood; we bowed, initiating another class.

Guiding us to the forty-sixth chapter in the Book of Yevon, we spent the period studying the use of emptying our minds in purging sin. Even Kamaal seemed distracted by tomorrow's prospects, giving up on formal study and allowing us to practice our own personal meditation. Needless to say, my mind stayed full to the brim with thoughts of the Mastery Exam.

* * *

I met up with Ardele and Avena in our Music elective. We waved across the silent room just as the chimes sounded. Even without a professor around, the class dutifully stood and bowed to Yevon's spirit. Immediately thereafter, conversation exploded around the room. Since elective courses were student-facilitated, today's class sounded more like cafeteria chatter than an organized symphony.

"Did your family sign the permission slip?"

"I've been packed for three days already!"

"My parents are still thinking about it… I haven't been able to concentrate all day."

To my surprise there was a handful of students whose parents had yet to make a decision—Avena one of them.

How could a parent deny their child the Mastery Exam? Upon entering Lucan Academy, we were all told of the Exam and its implications. In exchange for an exemplary education, parents would retract their rights over their child during their fifteenth year, transferring those rights to the Academy. There was little to no danger in this, as most of the courses of study were, for the most part, harmless. Athletics, Healing, Aesthetics, Swordsmanship, Chronicling, Priesthood, and even Clairvoyance were highly valued within Spira. Only Summoning and Dark Arts held any sense of foreboding, but the two tracts required exceptional marks on the Exam, and as such had rarely been bestowed.

By the time I reached Ardele on the far side of the room, he was already tuning his instrument.

"Chronicling was ridiculous," he told me over his hanging harp. Tied to his wrist and elbow, the instrument fell from his outstretched arm to his hip. As his fingers absentmindedly strummed the strings, it produced a warmer sound than a standing harp. "Professor Svant had us copying the textbook the whole time! She didn't let us talk either. Some new kind of torture before the Exam, no doubt."

"Maybe it'll come in handy."

He snorted derisively before giving up on the harp. No one else had tuned their instruments, and I certainly didn't feel like singing.

Suddenly, a loud crack filled the room, like a wooden house splitting in half. We simultaneously pivoted toward the door and grabbed our instruments, expecting a professor. To our surprise, an older man in plainclothes entered the room. His roving eyes dug into us from beneath rough eyebrows, as though seeking prey.

"Get up, Avena!" the man yelled. Avena flinched, unable to meet the man's stubborn glare. "Running away to go to this damned school. You're coming home, and you're _staying_ home. No school is going to take ownership of you. I'm not signing that paper and I'm not letting your become a summoner, or worse."

Awakened by that last statement, Avena spoke up, although quietly: "But, no one actually gets summoner on the Mastery—"

He slammed his fist into the doorframe. "You can't say that. There's been at least one summoner who's died at the hands of this school! You'll thank me later, when you're still alive."

Avena burst into tears, grabbing her book bag. I had to look away as she made the trek to the door, to give her some privacy. Searching for Ardele, in the hopes of finding some silent understanding, I found his own eyes downcast. An inexplicable desire to comfort him gripped my chest. But between his hollow stillness and Avena's grieving, I withered, unable to alter anything around me.

Just before Avena's father slammed the Music room door, he turned to assess us. The fury had drained from his face, replaced with a new, pitying expression.

"Be safe," he mumbled, then softly closed the door, abandoning us to our own unsettled confusion.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for giving this fanfiction a shot! This story is primarily AU, with some encounters with canon FFX characters as it goes on. Note that on my Author Profile there are 3 fun facts for this chapter that aren't included in what you already read. Please review with questions, comments, or critiques, as well as any grammatical or spelling errors you've noticed!


	2. Ardele - Insubordination

_Blessed and Despised_ by Nsu-Yeul

_Part One: Studies_

Chapter Two: Ardele – Insubordination

Beside the bed, my suitcase yawned open, empty. The lamppost outside my window cast long shadows across the floor. The shadows writhed up the side of the suitcase until they joined the darkness inside.

As usual, I'd forgotten to turn on the light in my room. After rushing here upon my parents' return from work, locking my bedroom door had taken precedence over unnecessary things like lights. The darkness never hampered my vision anyway. Ever since I could remember, I'd been able to make out shapes in the night. During my childhood, I'd used this to my favor. Secret late night snacks were my specialty. Tiptoeing through the pitch-black hallway, past my parents' open bedroom door, I would slip into the kitchen. Slices of cheese, handfuls of grapes, and even the occasional sweet bread disappeared, unnoticed by both my father and mother.

The memory almost stirred up a smile, but the jangling of my parents' keys in the front room knocked me back to my senses. How long before they asked to see me?

Quickly, I unbuttoned my uniform jacket. For a split second, I almost placed it in the suitcase. My useless hands trembled. I wanted to pack. I wanted nothing more than to ready myself for tomorrow's farewell. The morning held more promise than an Exam. No longer would Lucan be the school I escaped to, but the place I called home.

"Ardele, we're home," came my mother's soft call.

The sound of her voice reawakened my activity. Slipping off my shorts and stockings, I deposited them alongside my jacket underneath the bed. Then, I grabbed a gender-neutral black tunic from my dresser drawer. Finally finding my only pair of black long pants, I thrust my legs through.

The doorknob to my room rattled from the other side. Silently, I cursed the clock. There hadn't been enough time for me to unlock the door. Now, my parents would be suspicious.

"Let us in," demanded my father. His rough voice reminded me of Avena's father. I couldn't erase her weeping face from my mind. Without a thought to her wishes, her father had withdrawn her from Lucan, abruptly ending her dreams. The only way she could respond was through tears. Part of me worried that my parents would change their minds. They could imprison me in the house tomorrow, and I would miss the Exam. I could lose my dreams, just like Avena and Goran and Penna.

But that was impossible. Professor Kamaal had locked the pale green Retraction of Rights forms away. Lucan Academy's staff would come to claim me, if it came to that.

"Ardele, I said to let us in."

Twisting the key that already rested in the keyhole, I opened the door. My parents' eyes glanced over my frame, checking for any girlishness. _"The Traditionalists at Lucan may allow you to wear a girl's uniform, but that won't be allowed in my home." _This house rule hovered over me every evening. Soon, it would be a thing of the past—a hand released from my throat.

Satisfied with my appearance, my mother managed a half-hearted smile. "It's a little dark in here, isn't it?" she asked before pulling the string to the ceiling light. She fiddled with her long braid. While her chestnut hair matched my own, she kept it twisted, while I tended toward a—

"Get your hair out of that ridiculous ponytail," snapped my father.

Reaching to pull out my hair tie, I recited a few silent prayers for protection from Yevon. In my rush to change clothes, I'd forgotten the small things. Set loose, my hair fell to my shoulders, wavy and "too long," as my father put it. Unsure of how to please them, I swept it up into a low bun and brushed my bangs to the side. My eyes were still lined with kohl, but that generally went unnoticed.

"Well then, what would you like for your last dinner with us before the move?" my mother asked, trying to remain cheerful.

"Anything you want is fine," I said honestly.

Her face fell, almost imperceptibly. "You should choose. This is a special occasion."

"How about spicy tuna soup?" I replied, not wanting to disappoint. "Do we have any tuna?"

She clapped her hands together. "We have salmon. Would that be all right?"

"It sounds delicious."

Clearly content, my mother turned to leave, but just as her foot crossed the threshold, my father stepped forward. "Have you finished packing?" he asked, even though he'd already focused his gaze on the empty suitcase.

Except the occasional tunic, my dresser drawers were filled with the uniforms and clothes that had caused pointless conflicts with my parents for the last five years. As the Mastery Exam crept closer, I'd tried to pack every night, only to be put to bed by another shouting barrage from my father. Ripping suitcases from my hand or beneath my bed, he would unload the clothes into a pile on my floor.

Timidly, like a mouse cowering beneath an angry hawk, my mother always picked up the uniform jackets, the stockings, and the blouses and folded them into neat piles in the dresser. Unlike my father, she never yelled, but with each gentle close of the dresser drawers, she illustrated her opinion. Following Yevon's laws of respect for elders, I never yelled at either of them, choosing my own frustrated mutism.

"Why do you insist on making yourself this way?" were the parting words my father had left with me the night previous. "You can pack when you pack _right_!"

I wanted to ask him, "In a world ravaged by Sin, what did clothes matter? In a time when we could be killed in a moment, why do you hide behind false laws?" The Book of Yevon demanded piety, repentance, and faith. We were governed by strict codes concerning technology, transportation, and even respectful language. But Yevon himself had appreciated self-expression, by creating laws forbidding the destruction of aesthetics and music. After all, outside the amusement of blitzball and the arts, we had little happiness in our world.

"Let me know if you need any help packing," my father offered, but I knew his kindness as a ruse. With these final words, they both exited my room—my mother headed to the kitchen, my father probably to his study.

It's not as though my parents' prejudice was unusual. Throughout Spira, artificial taboos had sprung up in attempts to quell Sin's fury. As a result, Yevon's church lay divided, with two groups in debate with each other: the Refinists and the Traditionalists. While Traditionalists followed the specifics of Yevon's teachings, the Refinists had combined them with "natural" wisdom in order to create additional social codes. According to Refinist belief, Yevon's people should not dress finely or give feasts. Since Yevon did not prohibit the destruction of dance, neither did he protect dance. As such, Refinists believed dancing was unnatural for mankind. The Dark Arts, or enchantments that involved tapping into otherworldly energies, should be completely forbidden. Crossdressing betrayed a hidden disequilibrium within one's heart. These additional laws were meant to bring Spira closer to true atonement.

However, consistency was not the Refinists' strong suit. Blitzball, although never mentioned as a sin or saving grace by Yevon, had never been called under question in Refined doctrine. With nary a mention in the Book of Yevon, Refinists had determined that strong drink fell under Yevon's protection. Traditionalist institutions never failed to point out Refined hypocrisy.

The clinking of dishes echoed from the kitchen. A fishy smell wafted to my room as my mother removed the salmon from the icebox. To my surprise, my father's voice reverberated down the hallway:

"Did we make the right decision?" he asked, either unaware that I could hear him or apathetic to the idea.

"We can't take it back now," my mother answered in a barely audible voice. At least she had the sense to hide her words from me.

"Sending him there had seemed like a good decision, but it's too Traditionalist. I'm no Refinist, but is that headmaster even _thinking _about Sin's presence?"

As a Traditionalist institution, Lucan Academy followed the Maesters of the Traditionalist government. As such, the school rarely recognized Refined doctrine. With respect to Spira's trespasses, Traditionalists and Refinists often agreed: Machines caused wars; a lack of prayer led to sin; disrespect for one's elders brought about rebellion. The two parties split when Refinists rallied to persecute such people as dancers, or Dark Artists, or women in boys' clothes and men in dresses. My parents, like many Spirans, chose neither side. Their beliefs fell somewhere between Traditionalism and Refinism.

"That school hasn't done him any good," my father added. "Look at how they let those students dress. He's turned himself into a girl. If someone looks at him, that's what they'd see! Soon the neighbors will start asking me about my daughter instead of my son."

"I still think he'll grow out of it, and perhaps he'll earn a Mastery that will _help_ him grow out of it. And what about his friend, Enza? That boy has always been very strong in his faith. His mother mentioned to me at the market today that his Priesthood marks are high."

Fiddling with my suitcase, I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. Beneath all my teasing of him, there lay an undeniable truth: my parents approved of Enza more than me. Righteous, pious, and studious, his missteps at school usually involved some kind of oversight due to prolonged prayers. Still, in spite of his aggravating perfection, Enza truly accepted me. Many of the other students at Lucan played at androgyny like a carefree game, but Enza took my choices seriously.

Every morning, I'd met him at the crossroad of our neighboring streets, leaving behind my parents' judgment for his welcoming friendship. Once my parents were completely out of the picture, the imposed rivalry they'd forced upon us—one that Enza remained blissfully unaware of—would dissipate.

"Priesthood would do some good for Ardele," my father agreed. "Or Athletics, but I doubt he'd get into that with the way he acts."

The distant thump of a knife against the cutting board tapped out a steady rhythm throughout the house. "He is very strong in Aesthetics," my mother mentioned, more absent-mindedly than with any motive. "That's what all his marks have shown in the past."

"Aesthetics? Just what he needs, another excuse to make everything look beautiful! Isn't that what he used to say about himself? It didn't hurt to make himself look more beautiful?"

My mother released an exasperated sigh. "Whatever the Exam says, he'll have a chance to make Spira a better place. That's something to be proud of. That's why we sent him to Lucan in the first place. He'll become something more. Perhaps you could tell him you're proud of what he's accomplished more often…"

An eerie silence fell upon the kitchen. Part of me wondered if my father was about to explode. Did the thought of taking pride in me disgust him?

"I'm just nervous for him…" came his surprising reply. He spoke this quietly, as though for the first time during this conversation, he didn't want me to overhear. "May Yevon watch over him and his Exam… his choices."

Nothing followed but the thunk of my mother's knife. My father's shuffling pants bespoke his departure for the front room. The heaviness of his words pressed me into my bedroom wall. Slowly, I slid to the ground, staring at my empty suitcase.

They both cared for me, but their expectations were not about making good choices, but making the choices they considered worthwhile. Now, I was no longer their child. With the exception of my Mastery study, under Lucan's jurisdiction, I would be able to make my own decisions.

But why did my eyes sting? Unshed tears burned my lash line. Despite my desire to escape, the facts remained the same: I wanted my parents to witness my choices and approve of them.

Scoffing to myself, I rubbed my eyes dry. The likelihood of their approval was dismal. For now, I needed to concentrate on the task in front of me. How could I pack my clothes and leave with them unnoticed? Most likely, my father would search through my belongings in the morning.

The scent of spices on boiling salmon floated down the hallway. As the fragrance hit me, so did the image of the large plastic bags my parents always hauled into the house, full of the frozen goods they stored in the icebox. After emptying the bags, they left me to rinse them of any unsavory smells before hoarding them in the hallway closet as extra storage.

Extra storage was exactly what I needed tonight. Quietly, I crept into the dark hallway. It pleased me to know that while neither of my parents could see me in the pitch blackness, I could see the carpet, the picture frames hanging on the walls, and eventually the outline of the closet door. As surreptitiously as possible, I opened the door and pulled one of the oversized bags from their repository.

The door clicked shut louder than I'd intended. Frozen in place, I waited, but the clinking of dishes in the kitchen continued without pause. The thud of my father's heavy footsteps never came. Holding my breath, I stole away to my room, a rabbit chased to its burrow.

Once inside, I wasted no time. After caching the bag in my own clothes closet, I brought my trembling hand to my mouth. A small smile hung there, as though the crescent moon had found its way to my lips. Dinner would soon be ready. Afterward, my parents would go to bed. Then, I'd return to the plastic bag. I'd finish packing.

After all, under the umbrella of nighttime, no one would be able to see but me.

* * *

The morning sun filled my eyes as I pulled the front door open. A warm spring wind played with the stray hairs sticking out of my loose bun. The temptation to step over the threshold without a farewell swept through me, but I turned around to my parents. While a smile decorated her face, my mother's quivering eyes betrayed her sorrow.

My father thumped the suitcase in my hand with his thumb and forefinger. "You're already starting this new part of your life with the right decisions. Keep that up and your reputation will be pristine coming out of the Academy."

He'd thoroughly checked the suitcase at sunrise. To his surprise, he'd found only tunics and pants. Even now, I wore one of my few male uniforms. The jacket felt uncomfortably stiff against my shoulders. Neither said anything about the kohl lining my eyes—it was more a fashion trend than crossdressing anyway.

My mother's smile never wavered. "We're very proud of you," she said, holding her arms out like a mother bird's wings. Dutifully, I pressed myself into her hug. "We love you," she added quietly, and for the first time, I realized I might miss her.

But the moment ended quickly. Today, I would be moving into my new dorm room in the West Wing of the Academy. Shortly thereafter, the Mastery exam would begin. I couldn't risk any chance of tardiness.

"I love you, too," I told them, unsure of the words. With a quick wave, I walked out the door. They waved back until I reached the end of the house's walkway. Then, the door closed quietly, as though it had never been open at all.

I breathed a sigh of relief, choosing to take a few steps down the sidewalk before stopping. With a peek toward my house, I saw no signs of life in the picture windows facing the front lawn. The brown door remained shut. An albatross fluttered down to the one-story roof, soothed by the tranquility of the atmosphere.

The timing was perfect. Abandoning the suitcase on the sidewalk, I rushed back to the front lawn. No sounds filled the air but the albatross's trill. Scaling the side of the yard, I made my way toward my bedroom window.

Dark as a storm cloud, the plastic bag rested between the window and a bush full of red-petaled snapdragon. With painstaking care, I wrestled the bag from the bush's twigs. The rustling set off fireworks of panic in my heart. After a few moments, the bag came free. Trying to abate my frenetic breathing, I carried the bag back through the yard and to the sidewalk.

Daring one last glance toward the house, I found everything as I'd left it. The albatross, now grown silent, watched me with accusing eyes. If my parents couldn't understand me, then a bird had no chance.

With my mission accomplished, I turned my sights back down the path before me. Just a few blocks, and I'd find Enza waiting. Annoyed by my clothes, I recovered the hair tie from my bun. If I had to wear the boy's uniform to school today, then I'd at least change my hair to fit me. Awkwardly carrying the suitcase and bag in one hand, I maneuvered my hair into a decent side ponytail.

At the cross street, I saw Enza before he noticed me. His auburn bangs hung in his eyes; I'd done a good job cutting his hair. When he finally looked up, the shock on his face almost made me laugh.

"Your clothes!" he shouted. Then, as though embarrassed by his own voice, he continued in a softer tone: "Why are you wearing that uniform?"

"I had to get out of the house somehow."

He groaned. "Please tell me your dad didn't win. That suitcase had better not be full of boy clothes. Don't get me wrong, you don't look bad, but somehow, it's not you." Pausing for a moment, he laughed. "You look more like a girl playing dress-up to me."

"You want to know what's in the suitcase?" I said, feeling more than a little pleased with myself. "It might as well be garbage. All the clothes I need are right here." I held up the plastic bag before stuffing it into my luggage. "And neither of my parents even know it."

A delighted grin spread over his lips. "Welcome to freedom," he said, showing off his own brown suitcase.

"Welcome to freedom."

* * *

A/N: Chapter Two is down the hatch. Shoot me a **review** with questions, comments, critiques, or any spelling/grammar issues. Don't forget to check out the 3 Fun Facts on my Author Profile.


	3. Enza - The Postern

_Blessed and Despised _by Nsu-Yeul

_Part One: Studies_

Chapter Three: Enza – The Postern

Suitcases and students dotted the East Lawn. The rising sun filled smiling faces. Even the underclassmen, who wouldn't be taking the Mastery Exam for at least another year, were brimming with excitement. Ardele and I plunged into the crowd, immersing ourselves in the commotion.

Celandine jumped out from behind a pack of underclassmen. "You're finally here!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms out in enthusiasm and nearly hitting a nearby underclassman with her leather suitcase. "I've been looking for you—"

She stopped mid-sentence as her eyes fell on Ardele's uniform. Her dropped jaw made me laugh. Celandine's own uniform matched his, but since Celandine still wore her red hair in long braided pigtails, she gave off a more tomboyish air than a male one. Beside her, Ardele looked more like another tomboy.

"I'll be changing soon," he said. "Just as soon as they give me a dorm room."

"Is this some kind of prank?" she asked, genuinely confused.

Ardele sighed. "No," he said firmly, but then he shook his head slightly, as though shaking off his defensiveness. "You know I wouldn't do something like that," he added in a gentler tone.

"Well, then, explain!" Celandine replied, throwing her hands and luggage out again While harmless, her bubbly excitement over the Exam overwhelmed her ability to pick up on Ardele's body language. "I don't think I've seen you in a boy's uniform since we were thirteen."

Starting to feel irritated myself, I stepped in. "Yeah, well, this will probably be your last chance. As soon as we get into the West Wing, they'll assign us the dorm rooms. What do you think they'll look like?"

"I have no idea," Celandine replied, successfully distracted by the change of subject. "I hope they're spacious, and I want my own bathroom. All the professors have been so secretive about the West Wing, and I rarely see Mastery students leave that side of the school, much less have conversations with them!"

Ardele's face brightened. "I've actually seen the Mastery Athletics professor once. He was in Headmaster Byran's office when Kamaal had me running an errand. He was really tall with red hair and an island accent. He looked like he could be your dad, Celandine." Ardele's amused laughter punctuated his story.

"It's hard to believe that this is the last time we'll be entering Lucan through the East Wing." Celandine's words would have seemed ominous if not for her giddy tone and grinning mouth. Still, with a bittersweet heart, I turned toward the East Wing building of Lucan Academy. Its ivory-painted walls rose to meet a sloping, red roof, as though reaching toward a setting sun that had fallen upon its shingles. Bay windows lined each floor.

I'd walked past the West Wing before and knew that its appearance was identical—at least from the outside. Somewhere inside the west building, there were dorms filled with Mastery students who'd completed the Exam. Those students were studying their Mastery diligently with specialized professors.

And today, we were moving into those dorms and would take the Exam this very afternoon.

Headmaster Byran stepped out the red entrance doors. His mere presence hushed most of the student body. After his first ring of the chimes, complete silence fell upon us. In unison, we cupped our palms at our abdomens, holding our fragile world in our hands. I closed my eyes in prayer.

"With another day we have been blessed," came Byran's familiar phrase. "Praise be to Yevon."

"Praise be to Yevon."

Watch over this Exam, I prayed for the umpteenth time today. In spite of my sins, bless me, please. Help me serve you.

I felt a yank on my arm. Without opening my eyes, I knew it was Ardele's hand on my sleeve. A smile tugged on my lips, but I quickly concealed it. Ardele usually waited longer than this to pull me out of my morning prayers. Today, his impatience flared like dry leaves on fire. With our Exam on the horizon, he didn't want to be lingering on the East Lawn for any longer than necessary.

Keeping my eyes firmly shut in mock prayer, I waited for his reaction. Taking the bait, he yanked my arm again. His eagerness nearly won a laugh from me, but I managed to push down any signs of my amusement. With every ounce of willpower I could muster, I maintained my tranquil composure.

Forbidden to talk during Passing, Ardele could do nothing more than shake my shoulder. The silence was meant to honor Yevon and impose reflection on our sin. But after Passing from class to class for the last ten years, even I had grown weary of the affected quiet. Most of Lucan's students spent the time perfecting silent jokes, and Ardele's impatience inspired me to pull this one last prank before moving to the West Wing.

Even though my eyes were still closed, I could vividly imagine Ardele's flustered expression. As though confirming my suspicions, he grasped both my shoulders and shook me like a rattle. Opening my eyelids halfway, I cast a fluttery glance in his direction. For good measure, I fell backwards a little, pretending to be caught in a spiritual daze. Ardele wasn't buying it at all. With a glare cold enough to chill flame, he started dragging me to the entrance doors and down the hallway.

Unaware of my game, Celandine had already traipsed down the hallway. Her high spirits never faltered as she held the homeroom door open for us. As we passed by, she finally noticed Ardele towing me along. An amused smile broke out on her face. In a desperate effort to stifle any laughter, she bit her lip so hard it had to hurt. Frustrated but playing along, Ardele gave one last yank on my arm. The force knocked me forward, and we both all but fell into the classroom.

To my chagrin, Kamaal stood in front of his desk, assessing each student as they walked through the door. Immediately ashamed of my silliness, I straightened my back into a serious posture. Surprisingly, Kamaal's calculating gaze fell not on me but on my friend. Ardele visibly withered beneath our professor's deathly scowl.

Guilt flooded my lungs. Kamaal had mistaken Ardele as the culprit of our prank and not me. My friend's face fell to his feet as he walked past our professor toward his desk. Unable to speak, I watched idly as my Ardele shouldered the blame. The pressing silence in the room inflamed my shame. Perhaps the Passing really did serve its purpose.

Fortunately, Kamaal seemed satisfied just having us take our seats. Once the rest of the class filtered in, the chimes rang. We stood and bowed, and our silence was broken.

"Welcome to your last day in the East Wing," Kamaal began. "I see you all have brought your suitcases. If there are any Retraction of Rights forms that still need to be turned it, please pass them forward now."

In the shuffle, I quickly addressed Ardele. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

He shrugged. "Kamaal is in a good enough mood that it didn't matter. And in a few more hours, he won't even be my professor anymore."

"Very true," I replied, but still unable to swallow the guilt, I added: "Thank you."

Ardele raised a thin eyebrow. "For what?"

"For forgiving me."

A small chuckle escaped his lips. "You're too virtuous. That's why Kamaal thought I was the troublemaker in the first place. Don't worry about it."

I wanted to argue with him. My virtue was no greater than his or anyone else's. Sin had such a firm grip on our world. The calamity destroyed cities and villages. It took lives. And the sin in our hearts destroyed us from the inside. Piety, virtuosity, or devotion to Yevon's teachings—those qualities often ascribed to me were very far from my mind. I never considered the duty of atonement when I prayed.

Fear of sin's power brought me to Yevon's feet.

"All the forms are in," Kamaal declared, locking the newly acquired slips in his cabinet. The chatter in the classroom ceased, replaced by anticipation. "Our next step is for us to organize the boys and girls by last name. Then, we'll begin our trek to the West Wing.

"Boys, form a line on the far side of the room. Girls form a line by the door. Bring your luggage with you."

Grabbing my suitcase, I headed toward the boys' line. About halfway there, I noticed Ardele wasn't following me. He and Celandine were lingering in the center of the room, clearly confused. Most of the cross-dressers at Lucan Academy were playing at a fashion trend; so the binary of the lines was simple to navigate for everyone else in the classroom, but for my friends, the idea of choosing the boy or girl group infringed upon their identities.

"I'll go with the boys," I heard Ardele say.

Celandine nodded. "Yeah, I guess I'll go with girls. This is weird. Lucan doesn't usually make us divide like this."

The two split to their respective groups. Ardele took his place behind me and the four other boys in line. While his face betrayed no discomfort, his words spoke for him: "In the name of Yevon, let me out of this uniform. I just want a dorm room, boys or girls—whatever."

"At least our dorms will be near each other," I said. In truth, I'd never asked Ardele if he identified more with femininity or masculinity, but then again the question seemed irrelevant. He walked a precarious line between the two, or maybe outside of them entirely. To ask him to pick a side would be like asking him to choose between food and water. He existed through both.

Kamaal led us, in two lines side-by-side, down the domed hallway toward the East Wing Antechamber. There, a locked Postern in the center of the school connected the two wings. Rumor had it that only Headmaster Byran and the Mastery professors held the keys to unlock the Postern. Kamaal and all the other basic skills professors could not enter the West Wing without permission.

We'd never been given any explanation for these measures of security. Before this week, I'd assumed Byran had simply wanted to separate Mastery students from underclassmen. If the two groups bonded, an underclassman might get attached to a certain Mastery study. Then, if the underclassman ended up qualifying for a different Mastery, there could be protest or conflict.

Now, I wondered if the safeguard had more to do with protecting Mastery students from defecting parents. Remembering Avena's father, it seemed likely that a parent or two might try to storm the school and reclaim their child. But the Mastery Exam and the Mastery studies were harmless. What damage could something like Priesthood or Swordsmanship do?

Even though no Passing chime had sounded, we remained silent. Ahead of us, another class proceeded in similar kind. The sound of our footsteps bounced off the domed walls. The occasional lantern gave us light in the otherwise windowless path.

Finally we reached the Antechamber, a decadently painted room with one elaborate chandelier hanging low from the ceiling. Bay windows peeked into the periphery of the Mastery Arboretum. No Mastery students could be glimpsed in the Arboretum, but I suspected they'd been told to stay clear of the Antechamber windows in case of nosy underclassmen.

The four other homerooms had already gathered in the Antechamber. We took our place near the windows, facing the Postern to the West Wing. The Postern, smaller than expected, lay hidden behind a skillfully crafted curtain of maroon and gold. The excitement that kept flickering inside me became a lightning storm. My whole body felt charged with possibility. My future waited behind that door.

Headmaster Byran raised a hand to the assembly, preparing to speak. His black robe absorbed the light spilling from the windows, somehow making it appear darker. The braided eye of Yevon that hung from his neck stared at us critically.

"Here you have come," he began. "For ten years you have studied and prayed. You are all loyal servants of Yevon, and at Lucan Academy, we have and will continue to strengthen you to serve Yevon to the best of your ability. For ten years you have been training. Today, you embark on your true journey at Lucan Academy.

"The Mastery Exam is not a chance to prove your worth. Do not confuse this as a measurement of your intellect. Yevon has blessed each of you. The Mastery Exam determines this blessing. From there, we will grow your gift until you are ready to leave and bring honor and virtue into Spira. You are a shining hope in a world terrorized by Sin."

The headmaster paused for a moment. His solemn expression filled me with disgrace. The calamity invading our skies and our homes fed upon our trespasses. Sin consumed us all, and despite my penance and apologies, I knew that I too had contributed to the destruction that constantly befell our world. There would never be enough self-sacrificing summoners to quell Sin's fury forever. The war raged inside our souls.

"Today, we will bring you to the room where you will spend the next four years studying and mastering your strengths," he continued with a more light-hearted expression. "May you master the sin in your heart as well. That is my prayer for all of you."

Bowing ceremoniously, he concluded his speech. The students and professors bowed in return. Then, Byran turned to the Postern. After retrieving a key from his robe's pocket, he pulled back the decorated curtain, revealing a surprisingly plain wooden door. Byran slowly unlocked the Postern. The clink of the key in the keyhole echoed throughout the Antechamber like a faucet dripping in a silent kitchen. The door creaked open with age.

"Your homeroom professors will leave you here," Byran explained, confirming the rumor that basic skills professors could not enter the West Wing. "I will dismiss you line by line into the West Antechamber. There you will meet with a Mastery professor. This professor will not be your new homeroom teacher but simply a guide to your dorm."

Kamaal and the other professors bowed toward us and drew away from the Antechamber. Without being told, the entire student body bowed deeply at their egression. A pang of melancholy stabbed at my chest as I watched Kamaal depart. He had been my homeroom and Priesthood professor during this final year at Lucan's East Wing—a year of ups and downs, worries and hope. Losing him so quickly felt like a midday sunset—dusk fell upon me without warning and I'd never had the chance to say farewell to the sun.

I remembered Kamaal's bravery when Sin attacked Luca only seven months ago. Ardele and I had only just arrived in his classroom that morning. We silently took our seats as the Passing ended, but instead of the delicate hum of chimes filling the air, a school aide burst into the room.

"Sin!" he shouted. "Initiate emergency protocol." The man disappeared before any questions could be asked.

We'd practiced the emergency protocol each year in drills, but Sin rarely came to Luca, thanks to the diligence of the Crusaders who protected the city. I'd only been a toddler during its last attack. My blood pulsated as fear snaked its way through my body. With shaking legs, I crawled beneath my desk.

A crack as loud as a thunderstorm sounded from outside the school as the hurricane barricades were moved into place. Sin brought a maelstrom of debris and ocean waves with it whenever it approached a city. Would the barricades hold? Would my desk really shield my head against a caved-in roof?

What could we do against the embodiment of our worst selves?

Even knowing that my sin was rising against me, I couldn't push past the fear and appeal to Yevon. I glanced toward Ardele beneath his desk, but his eyes were firmly shut in prayer. Shame took hold of me. Despite my pretense, my faith seemed to crumble within me.

But a calm voice called out to us. "Yevon," prayed Kamaal, "Protect my students. Forgive us our sins, for they are many, and build a stronghold around these children. I care not for myself, but save them."

The strength of his tone tore the panic from my heart. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I whispered a response, "Thank you, Yevon, for this school. Rescue us from our peril. I am your servant."

Sin passed over Lucan Academy that day. Many homes were destroyed the next district over, but the school remained intact—Yevon willing.

* * *

By this time, Kamaal had reached the exit from the Antechamber. My gaze passed over to Ardele. He, too, watched the professors' departure. Forlornness had worked its way into his eyes. For the first time, the change in our lives became visceral. We would step through the Postern, away from all things safe and familiar, and nothing would be the same.

"The homeroom of Professor Kamaal may pass through the Postern," Byran announced, forcing me out of my wistfulness.

The girls and boys' lines proceeded in unison, side-by-side through the door. Stepping into the West Wing Antechamber for the first time, I gazed wide-eyed at the adornment. Gold filigree lined the ivory walls. Three chandeliers hung between draping curtains of fabric. Painted into the ceiling was a detailed mural of Luca, all its districts and beaches. A single bay window extended the entire expanse of one wall, exposing the full beauty of the Mastery Arboretum. Beyond the glass, orchards of palm, pine, and various fruit trees towered over stone pathways and magnificent fountains.

So taken by my surroundings, I almost missed the ten professors standing in a row along the far side of the room. Each carried a definitive air about them. Unlike the basic skills professors, they wore unique clothes instead of a plain black robe. A tall, redheaded man caught my attention. He was most likely the Mastery Athletics professor that Ardele had spoken of earlier.

A middle-aged man with brown hair stepped forward to greet our line. He wore a robe of blue, purple, and aqua thread tied together by an aqua sash around his abdomen. After making a quick bow in our direction, he addressed us:

"Welcome to the West Wing. I am Professor Isaaru. I will lead you to your dorm rooms."

It took me a moment to realize that he'd only addressed the boys. Another professor was speaking to the girls from my homeroom.

"I am Professor Lulu," she said. Her black hair fell down her back in thin braids. An ebony dress held together by multiple belts draped from her bare shoulders to the floor. "I will lead you to your dorm rooms."

Before I could even throw a glance in Celandine's direction, Professor Isaaru withdrew from the Antechamber. Our line followed suit, trailing him into the hallways. Domed stone walls greeted us, much like those in the East Wing. Lanterns cast their dim light upon us, summoning long shadows along the floor.

Isaaru never spoke as he led us down the hall. I supposed he had no reason to. After all, he was only meant to serve as a guide in this moment. Still, his silence made me uncomfortable. What did he think of us?

We made a sudden turn into a corridor lined with wooden doors. Isaaru stopped abruptly. After placing a hand on the first door, he turned toward us. "Orin Frentwood," he called out.

All eyes fell upon Orin, who bravely stepped forward. "Yes, sir?"

"This is your dorm room. Please proceed."

Orin nodded, his brown bangs flopping into his eyes. Nervously pushing back the hair, he moved toward the door. Isaaru handed him a single brass key. Orin unlocked the room and disappeared inside. Even with squinted eyes, I couldn't make out the interior of the dorm.

"Go on and get yourself comfortable," Isaaru said to Orin, who stood somewhere in his new room. "Lunch is on your desk. Someone will come to collect you for the Exam before evening. Do not leave your room until then."

Isaaru closed Orin's door before returning to the front of our line. He continued down the corridor, stopping at each door and saying a name. He repeated the same speech in front of each room, as though speaking from a script.

The fourth door down, he called out my name: "Enza Ajriann." Excitement and nervousness buzzed throughout my veins as I joined the professor. This was the dorm I'd been waiting for since age five. Over that time, the promise of a dorm had grown beyond its four walls. I would be living here for the next four years of my life.

Isaaru pressed the brass key into my palm. "Go on and get yourself comfortable," he recited.

With a mind preoccupied by unlocking the door, the rest of his words were lost on me. I twisted the doorknob and dared one last glance at Ardele before unveiling my new home.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you for reading this chapter. Don't forget to check out the 3 Fun Facts about this chapter on my Author Profile! Reviews are much appreciated.


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